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Friday, August 31, 2012

Remember how I was going to wrap it up weekly? Yeah, well, me neither. But then I remember again, so here I am.If you read my last post, which of course you did because it was advice and everyone knows I give THE BEST advice, you know that I have been Super-Zen since my child free vacation. So, had I not recently spent a grown up weekend away and recentered my chi, I probably would not have made it through this week. Here is why...1. My child has a few new words in her vocabulary. They are: "not fair," "You never...," and "but Mom." I have managed not to snap at the constant water torture of these phrases pounding my ears until they bleed. But only because my chakras were aligned by Cheetos and wine. Praise Buddha. The tone she is using to say these things involves her dropping her voice several octaves and growling it out loudly with her lips pursed. Y'all, she has done it so much that she is hoarse. I thought at first she had polyps on her vocal cords like Adele. My neighbor then pointed out that she just has bad attitude induced laryngitis. Think angry Kathleen Turner. She is also now saying "but Mom" on repeat every time she does not like what I say to her. Which is pretty much everything. I counted today in the car between our house and the Teeter and she said it 40 times. It is a 6 minute trip. We are lucky I did not wreck the car in desperation.

Angry laryngitis

2. I took the Honey Badger shoe shopping. Longest 12 minutes of shopping of my life. All was going well until a heated disagreement broke out over a pair of hideous white party shoes that were two sizes too big. It was intense. I had to physically remove them from her feet while she sobbed. We were able to agree on a pair of sparkly gold shoes, but the good will only lasted until Lady Baby discovered the umbrellas. We had a physical altercation over a Dora umbrella that involved the umbrella opening and more sobbing and foot stomping. (Thanks, I needed some bad luck. Things are too perfect with you, my angel child.) When I finally wrestled it from Her Highness, she threw herself around the store ranting and raving that I never share any umbrellas with her and that it is not fair. The cherry on this sundae of awesome embarrassment was when the manager said to me, "I really feel sorry for her husband." Me too kind sir, me too. Interestingly, he failed to take note that he should have also felt sorry for me. I mean, I was the one taking her home.

Compromise is a beautiful shiny sparkly thing.

3. School started this week. It was crazy watching my baby march up the stairs, hang up her book bag up, hug me, and go in to see her friends with nary a look back. If I had to rate the whole thing I would say 99% amazingly relieved and happy to take her back to school and 1% sad that she is another year older and doesn't seem to need me as much. Then I went and had coffee and got work done and I was back to 100% happy pretty quickly.Enjoy your weekend party people!!!! I hope it is beautiful as Lady Baby's new gold party shoes!

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Remember how I used to be all, my child is making me crazy...my head is going to blow off...I am losing it...my two year old is going to kill me? Well, that is all better now. I know that was only two days ago,but I actually wrote that last week. Since then I found the cure. And, because I care, I am sharing it with all y'all. It is a few steps, so stay with me here, but hang in. This is some good info.

Pack your bags. Make sure to include lots of elastic waist pants and books and of course your laptop. In a small bag, put a few outfits for your kid, diapers and instructions for every possible scenario so that you will not need to be bothered for any reason.

Pack food. Things that should go in the bag and cooler include chocolate, wine, beer, cookies, and Cheetos. In a small separate bag, throw in a few squeezy apple sauces and a box of cereal bars.

Put child in the car and drive to where ever there is someone that will take her for the weekend. Uncles, Aunts, grandparents, neighbors, people you met the other day in line at the grocery store. When they agree, don't question it. Just say thank you.

Hand child off quickly and continue on to a predetermined location. Put on comfortable clothes, pour a drink, and proceed to enjoy being with either friends or alone. Husband optional. Relax and remember showers are also optional.

Do not retrieve your child for at least three nights/four days. This is the MINIMUM amount of time required for full toddler detox. During this time texting is the best option for communication with the person that has your child. Calling once a day is acceptable, but only for quick need-to-know information. You do not need a play-by-play of pool time or a detailed accounting of meals. Your kid is being exactly the same as they are with you, except better behaved with nicer manners.

Pick child up and enjoy being excited to see her. If you are not excited, then you should have stayed an extra day. Note for next time.

Yes.

Yes.

Absolutely not. Never. Run.

Last weekend we had an adult only vay-cay with good friends at the beach. I am refreshed. Calm. Relaxed. Everything Lady Baby has thrown at me this week has been handled with grace and aplomb. Sure she was screechy at Aldi and she acted like a maniac at nap time, but I didn't waver. I didn't scream when she peed all over a lot of her plastic dish ware from her pretend kitchen because she was so busy making faux coffee that she forgot to potty. I handled things calmly when she pooped in her pants at the park. I have reasoned with her. I have refrained from screaming. Even my counting to three is calm. I've been that mom. The one who is all zen and seems to be have a personality disorder, but in a good way. Because she is happy and doesn't realize that her child is acting like El Diablo. But don't be jealous y'all. You too can be Zen. Just dump your children off and enjoy the silence. Relish in a long weekend where no one needs you to do more than hand them a beer or stir the pasta. Take pleasure in the fact that the only pee you could possibly have to clean up is your own. Because you have wet your pants laughing. Roll around in the idea that no one will assault you for serving them the wrong flavor of yogurt and you will not be verbally berated for being unable to produce the correct color of grape. Don't worry that your child needs you or misses you or wonders why you kept the car running when you dropped him off at grandmas. Child is fine. It is a long weekend. They will survive being spoiled and stared at and sweated beyond belief by their grandparents. Chances are they will get more attention than you give them in a week. It is a win-win for everyone. Especially you. Because you are not with them, you are elsewhere, in stretchy pants, eating Pinterest snacks and reading trash magazines. You are remembering why you and your spouse have so much fun, and why weekends with no Yo Gabba and no sippy cups are so important. It makes you a nicer, calmer, and more in control parent. Less likely to to be found sitting in your pantry crying and eating mini-snickers, more likely to be smiling at your child.

Now go make yourself a better parent by following my steps exactly. Do not deviate, unless it is to stay away longer. And make sure to take the mini-snickers with you.

Sunday, August 26, 2012

I have instructed Hubs, upon my head blowing off in Target, to please put "She had a two year old." on my gravestone. I seriously think having a two year old may very well kill me. Let me rephrase. Having my two year old may very well kill me. Lady Baby...please take note of the following informational bullet points if you want me to live to throw you a 3rd birthday party (disregard and proceed with your shenanigans if you don't mind if Dada throws your party. I hope you like PBR and trail mix):

1. Leaving the house does not mean we need to carry 2 purses, a dog, a baby, 3 chopsticks, blankie and a paci. We are going to run errands, not being exiled to another country. 2. Pooping in your nighttime diaper is understandably upsetting now that you are "potty trained." However, please refrain from removing the diaper yourself and then being horrified when you have an extra large poop ball in your bed. 3. Please understand that when I give you the option to sit on the potty or in time out, it is not meant to cause a thirty minute think tank on the pros and cons of each. I am giving you a chance to do the right thing. The longer you take to decide, the more chance the situation will end with one of us crying.4. Do not ask me for a lolly pop for breakfast again. When I offer you an apple, and you slap it out of my hand, please don't be surprised when you have to go to time out. Sobbing and wailing "you never share with me" does not make me see your side of the lolly pop-for-breakfast platform. 5. Please stop saying extra loud "it smells like poop in here" every time we go in a public restroom. 6. Please stop touching every single fixture/handle/trash can every time we are in a public restroom.7. Please stop screaming "I peepee'd" every time we leave a public restroom.8. I need you to stop Honey Badgering me in stores. We have to get food so you can take one bite and then throw it on the floor. Direct your attention to the following sub points. 8a. The quieter I whisper-yell at you to stop whatever you are doing, the closer I am to loosing it. You would be wise to hush and just eat your free cookie. 8b. I have no control over what type of carts are available at what store. It is not my fault if there is not a car that you approve of. Sometimes, there are no cool car carts. You would be wise to keep your opinions to yourself and just eat your free cookie. 8c. You are not getting the cookie because I think you deserve it. I just am hoping it will make you stop talking to strangers and to me. Please for the love of god, just sit and eat your free cookie. 8d. Never, I repeat NEVER, Stand up in the cart for any reason. I don't care how bad you want something you can not reach from the sitting position. It makes me look bad when the old lady has to tap me on the shoulder and point to you. You should not be standing to reach an apple. EVER. 8e. Stop taking off your shoes in stores. We only have one pair that fits and if we lose those you are basically a hobo.

9. I am not your personal assistant or your Sherpa. If you want to bring something outside of the house, be prepared to carry it.

10. Sometimes, I need you to play by yourself. 11. Sometimes I need you to watch TV by yourself. 12. Sometimes I need to go to the bathroom by myself. 13. Despite popular belief, I am not speaking just to hear myself talk. I know my rules are silly, but humor me. It will save us both a lot of heartache.

I don't think Her Highness will change her crazy 2 year old ways, but it was worth a try... In lieu of flowers, her daddy is going to need donations for boarding school.

Monday, August 20, 2012

This past weekend we took another new step in the world of parenthood. We took Lady Baby to see The Wiggles. Have you ever been to a live show based on a children’s TV show? Have you? Then you know. It is serious bid-ness. As I may have mentioned I have alittle crush on the Blue Wiggle. This was not an excuse to stalk him. Though he did look very dashing with his salt and pepper hair. And buff in his blue skivvy. Ahem, it wasn’t about me. Really it wasn’t. It was for Her Highness. It was.

Lady Baby is busy staring at hobos and people registering to vote.

We live in NC. We drove to Delaware to see the inlaws and then toodled over to PA to see The Wiggles. That is like 752 million miles to see four dudes dance around with a life size dog, dinosaur and octopus. Totally worth it, my friends. We opted for the 11:30 am show, because after about 2 pm my delicate flower starts to turn into a raging lunatic who cries for no reason and stomps her feet a lot. So we left in-law manor at 9:45am to travel the 50 minutes to Upper Darby, PA. Though I was SCOFFED at, I was all, “Thou shalt not be late for The Wiggles. You WILL not make us late driving around an unfamiliar yankee town.” We got there with about 20 min to spare to get our popcorn and go to the potty. Ah, the potty. Let me take a moment. This was a very old theater. Apparently back in the day everyone went pee-pee before they came to shows, because from what I could tell there was one ladies for the entire sha-bang. In order for Lady Baby to recieve her much coveted box of popcorn she had to go tinkle. She agreed, but not with what I'd call a positive attitude. I should have let her pee her pants while eating the popcorn. Little secret people: every person under 5 at a kid’s show must be forced to pee before sitting through $45 worth of live show. Also, only their mother’s take them to the bathroom. So the line for the girl's tinkeltorium is about 5,000 deep, and ¾’s of those people are angry kids who want their snacks and to see the Wiggles dammit. Mine included. Did I mention that there is no air conditioning in the hole? This is what jail must be like. Her Highness begrudgingly sat on the potty and despite herself, peed. By the time we exited worlds smallest cubicle I had a full body sweat happening. As soon as we left the stall she started screaming “no wash my hands” so I had to weave through the other 4,998 moms and kids staring at me while I said, “we will just use a wipe on them, please chill. stop yelling.” I know they knew I didn’t really have any wipes. We all pretended that it wasn’t a lie. Even though it totally was.

We met Dada and had three different ushers take turns guiding us down the 100 feet to our seats, all atwitter to get our Wiggle on. I can admit I was the most excited. Except for the twins sitting across the aisle from me. They were completely unhinged. More about them later. We got settled and were seriously only about 10 yards from the stage. Perfect for us to see the hotness of the blue wiggle the charisma of The Wiggles up close and personal. Hubs told me to turn down my phone. I pointed out that we were surrounded by hordes of screaming children jacked up on pure commercial driven enthusiasm. Pretty sure an atomic bomb could go off and no one would hear it.

The lights go down, Lady Baby panics and jumps in my lap, and the Wiggles come out in all their Wiggly Glory. They looked a little more tired, a little older, and just as enthusiastic as they are the TV. Impressive. Obviously they have their own bathroom. They danced and sang and were awesome. Halfway through, Toodles told me she had to potty. Super. Because the first trip was so fun. Walking up the aisle at a children’s show is like walking through a teeming crowd of miniature slam dancers and people who are so moved by the spirit to dance they go into one of those convulsing fits. We get back to the 100 degree bathroom and much to my relief there was no one down there but an attendant who then watched with interest as we had a Family- Come-to-Jesus when Her Majesty denied needing to potty once we were outside the stall. I gave up and shrugged at the attendent. She stared mouth open when I was my child screamed banshee style on repeat that we didn’t need to wash hands and then refused to hold my hand going back up the stairs. Attendant woman actually said, “OH MY. She’s a handfull.” When you are the worst the bathroom attendant has seen at a Wiggles concert, well folks, that is saying something. Back down the dancing-child gauntlet we went. When we almost reach our seats, there is Jeff the Purple Wiggle, grooving along the aisle, mobbed by his tiny adoring fans. My child is so freaked out that she turned and attached herself starfish style to the closest adult, which unfortunately was not me. I peeled her off one very shocked man's crotch and carried her shaking back to our seats. I suppose the Wiggles are good from far, but far from good. I get it. Seeing a star up close can be disconcerting. The only other exciting thing was when the aforementioned twins started their own mini mosh pit. A poor unsuspecting little girl got caught unawares between the two zealous twins and ended up on her back. Her mom had to come pluck her out of the twin sandwich. The Wiggles drive kids to do crazy things. The rest of the show was great. We danced, we sang, we giggled and wiggled.

We left PA, and the only real mishap happened at lunch. Lady Baby was so hungry and tired, that her evil twin emerged, the one that refuses to eat much of anything at lunch but chips and a brownie. Apparently she lost herself in the awesomeness that was this brownie, because she turned to me with a mouthful of choco-goodness, made a funny face, and said "I having an accident." Right there in the chair, in front of god and everyone. Lovely. Costume change, wrap tinkley clothes in paper towels, and make hurried exit, hoping that no one noticed the smell of outhouse hovering around us. Really a minor incident for a big day, especially considering that I saw three children having to be carried out of the show screaming and one being tackled by her own mother and held down because she was so overcome with The Wiggly Spirit. I will take wee-wee panties over rolling on an auditorium floor while my toddler probably bites me any day. You should totally see The Wiggles live. Good times, my peeps. Good. Times.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Wake to find that after diligently closing doors to all the bedrooms to keep 'betes cat from peeing on the beds, we in fact shut her in our bedroom and the other cat in the guest bedroom. Guess what? They both peed. The absolute worst way to start a day is by peeling cat pee sheets off of a bed. Then have that followed up with hub's discovering cat pee on his dress pants. It can really sour you for the day. Thirty minutes into day, after cleaning two pees up, child pees on the floor beside the potty. Rinse, repeat. So that is four illicit urinations pre-brekkie. TOO much...too much...*sob*...too much...

Go to see my grandmother for lunch and grocery shopping. Lady Baby is a maniac during lunch, then her hand gets shut in the door of the bathroom. Cue the insane screaming and flailing and sobbing. If you are new here, dramatics are her specialty. Get to the grocery store. Spend an hour with insane child ripping stuff off of shelves, opening groceries, and leaning into the freezer to steal ice cream and screaming for no reason other than she hates humanity. That is all from the novel car cart. The funny part is she asked if she could walk. As if.

Unload groceries for Grandmother and child discovers an empty glass jar and proceeds to walk around with jar. Trips over 1 millimeter rise in linoleum to carpet transition and drops jar. Jar breaks. I scream, child cries, grandmother looks like she is ready for us to go home. Stop at bank to deposit checks and go upstairs to see hubs. Her Highness puts on a one woman show free of charge for all employees. We have a successful trip to the potty, where the automatic flusher makes her eyes shoot out and she jumps seven feet in air. I consider that the high point of my day. Get in the "alligator" (elevator) and she immediately pushes the "emergency rescue me I am stuck in the elevator button." Never one to have a clear head in an emergency, I jump off panicked. Hubs, who is still standing there, tells me to get back on and explain there is no emergency. There is about to be an emergency though, because I am about to kill my child. I apologize to mystery voice asking if we are stuck, and ride elevator of shame back down holding child back from buttons so as to avoid another "situation."Get home and walk up the flagstone steps. Child falls off the first step, which is maybe two inches high, backwards (I am sure there were some sort of shenanigans happening involving dancing/climbing/general tomfoolery) and bangs back of head. More screaming. Head to pool. Put child in puddle jumper, she jumps in baby pool. Water up to her waist, just above bottom and tells me she has to poop. To the bathroom, wet tankini bottoms peeled off, sit on toilet. We discuss her expressed desire to to put her head under in the potty the way she does in the pool. I toy with the idea, but decide if anyone is drowning themselves in the potty today it will be me. I feel I have earned it. No poop, wet bottoms back on, back to the pool. Repeat three times, never pooping once. Call hubs and almost cry with relief when he says he is walking in.Get home, skip bath, fumble through nighttime routine. Child is in bed at 9, I am in bed at 9.30. Would love to go to sleep, but the iced latte I drank at 4:00 to prevent myself from driving into an overpass on way home from Grandmother's is preventing me from well deserved sleep. Finally fall asleep despite being able to feel every organ of my body pulsating from caffeine overload. Only to be woken by hubs when he got into bed and turned the TV on.

Sometimes I think my family wants me to go insane. Lady Baby is trying to wear me down. She will not break me...by god, she will not break me.

Monday, August 13, 2012

So there is this new website called Pinterest. It is all the rage and...I'm sorry, what's that? It's not really "new"? Hang on, are you getting attitude? Watch yourself...as I was saying before certain people interrupted me with their I-know-everything-about-the-interwebs-sass talk, this thing Pinterest is ah-maz-ing. It came about one day when a group of people, we will call them tech-geeks for ease of understanding, were sitting around in a meeting. They were pondering exactly what Thea of The Lint Trap (I am more famous than some realize) would want. One said a DIY website that made it really easy to flip through projects without even reading what you had to do. Another said a page that shows only pictures of really hot guys that she is crushing on. A third wise tech-geek mentioned she would like easy recipes with pictures of the food since she is easily confused and needs visual aids when cooking. The fourth, who was the only girl in the room so of course the very wisest geek of them all, sat very quietly through all the other suggestions. Then she stood up on her chair, spread her arms out wide, and shouted "we shall combine all of your not so impressive ideas into my one amazing idea of a virtual bulletin board and call it Tack-or-Rama." Of course the name was voted down, but this is how Pinterest came along. They looked into my very soul and saw a person who really only cares about looking at the pictures in magazines, loves ideas but often lacks follow through, and needs lots of inspiration when it comes to kitchen shenanigans. Also, they knew my system for filing ideas/recipes/pictures/thoughts/inspirations was to either a) tear the pic out and then promptly lose it or b) keep the whole magazine until we got tired of the stack and threw them all away. Neither is very efficient.

If you have not ventured into the land of the Pinning you are seriously missing out. It. Is. Awesome. I resisted for awhile, concerned it would eat up way to much of my time. I had friends warn me that I would lose hours looking at it. Yes and yes. Not to mention I am now overflowing with inspiration and my husband is a little concerned that I am going to attempt to make all of our Christmas prezzies this year (which I so am ) and spend money on projects that I may never finish (fair assumption given my track record). Y'all come along and follow me. I spend an obscene amount of time pinning a variety of things which I am sure you will all love (I have amazing taste and a keen eye. Obvs.) Join me and waste hours of your life pinning things that you may or may not do. In my opinion, the world would be a better place if we all knew how to make an upholstered stool out of a beat up coffee table, the recipe for adult beverage capri suns, and how to make a succulent wreathe. I will venture so far as to say it could bring about world peace. Obama repinning Hu Jintao's recipe for homemade sugar scrub or liking Hamid Karzai's witches hats made out of hershey kisses and fudge stripe cookies pin? That schmidt will bond you in ways peace talks never could. You are welcome, humanity.

Come join me. Let's look at each other's outfit ideas. Let's all pin no bake oatmeal cookie balls. It will be awesome and not at all feel like we are wasting our lives away on the computer. This more like life-research. Follow my virtual bulletin board of things that I may or may not ever make, cook, wear, or marry. Lets all put our psyches on display. It will be awesome.

Saturday, August 11, 2012

We have a new game at our house. It starts with the following question repeated in chinese water torture fashion: "Will you play babies with me?" Translation: "Will you sit on the floor with me and do everything I tell for the amount of time that I deem appropriate?" It is really hard for me to ignore my child when she asks me to play. Sure, partly because it is sweet, I know she won't want to play with me in a few years, and I want to spend time with her. But also because she will follow me around and say it over and over, steadily increasing in pitch and volume until I crack and the dog is whining.

The Boss Mama at work

To the floor we go to play the babies. Let me start by saying there is not a lot to do with a baby doll. Much like there is not a lot to do with a real baby. Remember how you just sat around watching Law and Order reruns and Real Housewives holding your newborn, feeding your newborn, rocking your newborn? Playing babies is not so different. Lady Baby is a natural born mother. She carries her babies around, whispering to them, bouncing them and shushing us if we get too loud around her sleeping baby. Last Christmas she got the box of baby accouterment from Target--five rickety pink plastic pieces of baby equipment for $25.00. Super high quality stuff. Everything a 2 year old needs to take care of her litter. For months they were all named Baby Rachel (a double name like Mary Beth or Bobby Sue) and both names must always be said together. Recently you may have felt a shift in the atmosphere because all babies are now named Baby Zero. We know its bizarre. You don't question Her Majesty. So pento-mom has 5 Baby Zeros but you are only allowed to mother the one she hands you. She cares for another one (we can usually only find two at any given time). This is subject to change at any moment Little Mama deems appropriate, so don't get attached. There are only a few Alice approved activities that you can do with your baby. Feed, rock, diaper. I figured out 3 seconds into our first Play Baby session she only wants me there to be her micromanaged au pair. I get to do what she tells me, when she tells me, and have to stop if it looks like it could be remotely more fun than what she is doing. For example, she is diapering her Baby Zero with one of her old diapers. I am feeding mine air baby food, out of a used ground mustard seed container with a tiny spoon. Obviously the baby food is more exciting than the diaper. Duh. So she demands my supercool pretend baby food and tosses me her dog hair covered size three huggie. Spanks. If I am using the fake juice bottle and she thinks her baby wants juice, she takes it. If I have my baby in the crappy baby bouncer, her baby needs bouncing more than mine. Thank goodness she doesn't just take what I am playing with. Oh no, she tells me what I can have instead. It makes me feel kind of sorry for her friends. I can only imagine how she bosses them around. Not to mention her future husband.If you need mothering lessons, feel free to leave a comment. I will be happy to send her your way. I would love to get a break from Playing Babies. And from the drill sergeant. Bonus: you won't have to make any decisions, she will make them all for you. You can totally give your brain a rest.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Yesterday something exciting happened. A milestone was hit. An exciting and sacred milestone. Something I have been waiting for two years and eight months to do. Yesterday Lady Baby went to her first movie. For those of you that know me outside of your computer, you know I love love love going to the movies. I try to go 2-3 times a month. Hubs knows the quickest way out of the doghouse is via the movies. Now the rest of you know too. Moving on, back to the milestone. It was rainy and overcast and the humidity was hovering somewhere around wet wash cloth. I knew the pool was a no go. What to do, what to do? I knew we had to get out of the house or else I would suffer the wrath of a bored two year old trying to tear my house apart. Lesson learned yesterday morning. I decided it was time to try something that I have not dared to attempt. A full length movie at the theatre. Like the kind that people who can sit quietly and not wet their pants go to. I checked the interwebs and The Smurfs was playing at 10am for $1 a ticket. Seriously, nothing costs a dollar anymore. That is just crazy talk. I figured it we didn't last, no biggie, its just a dollar.I was downright giddy all morning, talking up the movie. We were going to sit like big girls and eat popcorn and it is going to be awesome. I had Her Majesty so geeked up about popcorn it was slightly criminal. Thank the lord theater popcorn is so tasty. It wasn't like I was lying. Cue the tuesday $2 small popcorn and we were in business.

Popcorn? Check.
Blankie? Check.
Chapstick? Check.
Lets do this.

We get there, we get our popcorn, we walk in to the theater. Her little face looked at the screen with awe and reverence and she said, "whoa. That's a big TV." I went equipped with paci, blankie, and a bottle of water. She went equipped with her chapstick and a burning desire to eat a lot of popcorn. The lights went down and she immediately yelled, "I can't see you mama. I can't see." We held hands for a few minutes and she relaxed. It was more action than my first date. I have rarely seen the child so still. For about 45 minutes she sat and watched and soaked it all in. And shoveled it all in. Then she got antsy and squirmy, not really surprising since Neil Patrick Harris was phoning this one in. After a few different positions, she crawled into my lap. With about 20 minutes left to go, she enjoyed a rousing game of put the arm rest up and down, then she stood in her chair to say hello to the people behind us. As soon as she said "Hi," the chair folded up and she was up to her things in chair crack. Fortunately, with my ninja cat reflexes, I pulled her out with minimal damage. She may have PTSD in her teen years that a chair tried to eat her. TBD. We didn't have to leave once, she whispered talked in less than a yell, it only cost $4. I got to share one of my favorite things with my favorite little girl. I have been waiting since this child was born to share the cinema with her. I often hype things in my head. The first b-day smash cake--serious disappointment. The first trip to the zoo--I was way more excited than she was. But the movies, the movies was different. She loved it. And I loved watching her love it. Awesome mother daughter morning.

Unfortunately, as soon as we got home, she stood beside her potty and peed on the floor. Then she proceeded to tap dance in the puddle. And there we were, back in real life. Thank goodness I still have the memories...

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Good Morning Lint Trap Nation! I am back on Mom's on Main today. Stroll over and read me and show me some love. It is a rerun, but I am sure you will enjoy it a second time. What's not to like? When you see the picture of Lady Baby, you will know you are in the right place. Feel free to comment, send to friends, & visit them often.As a reward for loving on me...I give you the following snippet of life with a crazy two year old.Scene: Daddy is teasing Mommy. Mommy is protesting, defending her idea/statement/stance on something very important. Daddy is laughing and eye rolling.Alice: Hey. Be nice to Mama.Daddy: Why?Alice: You be nice Dada. She's a lay-deee.That's right. At least someone noticed. It's nice to be appreciated for my feminine whiles and charm by someone, even if said individual pees in the grass and eats paper. I will take what I can get. Don't forget to check me out. It's a win-win. You laugh, I look cool. I am a lay-deee afterall, and you should listen to what a lay-deee has to say.

Friday, August 3, 2012

Friday wrap up is here! Its been a crazy week at the Manor. Who am I kidding, every week at the Manor is crazy. Shew.

1. We survived Floydfest last week. My eyeballs have healed from the stare-itis. I only have one pile of laundry left and camping stuff in the back of my car to be returned, and two bags to be unpacks. Oops, I just saw one on my dining room table. Make that three to unpack. But other than that, fully recovered.

2. Funny phrases out of Lady Baby's mouth: Peter Pants--you probably know him as Peter Pan. It's a dance mover--or, as we say it in America, a dance move. Come on BOOOYYYEEEEE--pronounced like Flavor Flav.

3. We had a awesome photo shoot for the sprucing of the blog in the future. I cannot wait until I get to share the pictures. The two I have seen have me all geeked up for more. And my girl Amanda Caldwell is adept at photoshop. That can only help the double chin situation.

4. Yesterday I ran out of whole milk. Her Highness much prefers whole milk. Heated of course. So like a ninja, I mixed skim and half and half. Crisis averted. It must have been okay, she drank 3/4's of it.

5. Potty training is moving right along in grand fashion. We have graduated from flooding several multi-packs of panties a day to only a few little accidents sporadically. We have also moved from Lady Baby being blase when she pees up couch/floor/undies/dress to bawling uncontrollably when she barely has an accident. Finally she gets that it is NOT cool to pee in your pants.

6. I finally joined Pinterest. That actually didn't happen this week but I am really hitting my stride. Which is within 12 minutes I can pin 7,326 pins of cats, DIY gifts, vacation spots, yummy stuff I may never fix, and hot dudes. I. heart. Pinterest. I cannot believe I stayed away for so long. All of you who said I was missing out and I would totally love it? You were so right. Follow me here.

7. Its august. AUGUST. How the heck did that happen so fast? I am already thinking about school and more time for work and the structure that Fall brings. I am already missing the pool and eating popsicles outside in the evening and not worrying over bedtimes. And then I am back to thinking about school starting and that makes up for it. Two whole mornings of just me. Every week. Bring. It.